


Escaping the Festivities

by 100dabbo



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Christmas Party, Established Relationship, Infidelity, M/M, Neck Kissing, Semi-Public Sex, Workplace Sex, s04e02: Christmas Comes But Once A Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: The Christmas party held at the Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce office bores Don and Pete. They seek to occupy their evening together rather than amongst the guests.
Relationships: Pete Campbell/Don Draper
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Escaping the Festivities

The Christmas party was in full swing, each and every employee of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce indulging in the sweet festivities of the season, necking back cocktail after cocktail, ravishing the luxury buffet set out in the conference room and wishing upon each and every guest a joyful occasion for the holidays.

Just about everyone was drunk, and those who weren’t wished that they could have been, and it wasn’t surprise that Don was a part of the former category. His fifth whisky of the hour slipped down his throat with its familiar alcoholic burn, and he didn’t hesitate a second before quickly pouring out yet another.

“Be careful not to drown yourself, Don.” 

The voice interrupted his blissful solitude in the Creative Room where he’d been sat, slouched in a chair with one fist on the table and his other holding a glass.

His eyes flicked up to look at the speaker, the man he recognised at Campbell from just the one remark. His wife was absent from his side, and a glass of his own sat in his palm, clutched by his slender fingers from the bottom. It was still half empty, probably only the second of his night. Don chuckled.

“And why are _you_ not out there, huh? Your wife not to your taste anymore?”

Campbell narrowed his eyes to the truth of what the question’s answer was, like he was wincing at his own misfortune. He stepped forward, pulling down his blazer to straighten it out over his torso.

“Just shup up and pour.”

He slid his glass across the table, sitting beside Draper in a similarly exhausted slouch. Don did as was requested without batting an eye, heavy eyes watching with admiration to see him pick it back up and tip the whole of it down, baring his teeth to grit himself through the scorching taste.

When he then sighed and pushed the empty glass away, Don swilled his own in its tumbler. He knew why Pete decided to come out, and while he was somewhat correct with his rhetorical’s implication, it was sure to be more from the general atmosphere of the party rather than due to a specific individual, lest the individual was Lee Garner Jr.

The traction that his presence had caused resulted in a volume higher than any office party the firm had seen in years, a volume which could only be barely escaped by retreating to the creative space they were both sat in.

The noise was a mere hubbub from there, and a part of that gentle racket of sound was Trudy, distancing herself from her husband just as much as he was distancing himself from her, in favour of spending time the secretaries’ company, indulging in as much woman-talk (as Pete liked to put it) as she pleased. The distance they kept also meant that Pete could get as drunk as he wanted, and the similar lack of responsible ties Don had meant they could do that together.

“Are you having a good time,” Don began, coyly sipping a drop of his whisky, “Or are you having a great time?”

He had to laugh again when Pete rolled his eyes, propping those shiny dress shoes of his up on the table, reclining as comfortably as he pleased, trying, and failing, to hide the dimple coupling his smirk. 

“Free cigarettes,” He droned, tipping his head back against the backrest of his chair, “Whatever will I do with free cigarettes?” He licked his lips to chase the taste of the alcohol, knowing full-well Don’s eyes were right on him like some kind of voyeur, “However can I thank that man for free cigarettes?”

“Smoke ‘em.” Don said, putting it as bluntly as he pleased, half expecting the slow turn of Pete’s head so he could look him in the eyes to reply. He did so, and his blue eyes shone in the bright overhead light.

“Spoken like a poet, Don, it’s great to have a Creative Director like you.” A wide smile accompanied his sarcastic tone, and Don had to take yet another sip to stop him from saying something too vulgar in reply when so many respectable guests stood at the other side of the office. “Anyway, you can have them, I don’t even want them in the house, much less beneath my Christmas tree.”

“You know I’d be more than obliged to take them off your hands, Pete.” Came Don’s reply to that oh-so-generous offer, barely blinking for his stare at Campbell to be maintained. 

The younger man’s deep burgundy suit was hugging tightly to his svelte little frame, Don didn’t want to look away even if he could. He looked just as good as Joan did, their only difference in Don’s eyes being the distinction of the bright scarlet her dress had to the dark ruby of his professional raiment. As much as he liked him in it, though, he still wanted to get him out of it.

He stood from his seat, stabilising himself with a hold on the table’s edge, appreciating how Pete’s gaze followed his rise. All he had to do was jerk his head to the side and walk away for Campbell to follow after him, abandoning their glasses and chairs behind.

And, while his gait was still sluggish, it was still full of purpose, knowing exactly the destination he was taking Pete along to, the place they’d gone together at least once before. The click of his dress shoes told him Pete was trailing behind, and they only stopped when Draper leant against the doorframe of the closed storeroom. 

“They’re not good for you.” Pete said to him, rehashing the Lucky Strike exchange, slipping his hands into his pockets as if he was at all capable of remaining casual, especially when the intention in Don’s eyes suggested that they were about to be anything but.

His superior placed a hand on the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed it to swing it open, leaving it barely ajar to reveal only just a dark cut of shadow into the tight space. Don’s eyes hadn’t moved from Pete’s face a fraction.

“And you’re not good for me,” He countered, pushing it open, illuminating the space with the bright office lights they were stood beneath, “But I wouldn’t wanna quit you for a moment.”

Pete stepped inside without the explicit instruction to do so; he didn’t need one when it was that obvious. He flicked the light switch with his knuckle and Don followed, closing the door behind them. 

“Who knew you’d be so expressive under the influence, it’s almost like—”

Whatever Campbell was going to quip was quickly quelled by the press of Don’s mouth onto his, a firm grasp rapid to establish itself around his slender wrists and pin him up against the door that had just been closed. When he moaned to the force, Draper all but ceased, slipping his knee between his thighs, riding on the pleasure that the power over him brought.

In pulling away for air for just a second, he could tell that he’d caught him off guard entirely, face flushed and pulse beating in the veins right beneath his fingertips.

“Tell me you want me, Pete,” Don commanded, shifting them away from the door and up against a sturdier wall instead, “Tell that with your wife on the other side of that door, you still want me.”

“Hell’s bells, Don!” Pete couldn’t help but exclaim, arousing himself at the very idea, yet being intimidated by it all the same. Still, it was the twitch his cock gave to the scandalous prospect that swayed his decision, “Of course I want you, but—”

Their lips re-joined in a forceful push, as did Don’s roaming hands, tracking themselves across that beautiful blazer to unbutton it and provide access to the rest of his torso. 

“Be a good boy, Pete,” Don whispered against his mouth, “Be a good boy and take off those pants.”

Pete began doing so the moment his wrists were released from Draper’s grip, working at his belt first, then the button, then the zipper to eventually inch them down from his hips, letting them fall and pool at his feet. He managed to kick his shoes off while he was at it, releasing the trousers from his legs entirely, increasing their height difference all the more once he was bereft of their slight heel.

“Underwear too?” He asked as if it was even a question worth posing, considering the trajectory they’d been on for the past few minutes. It wasn’t mocked in any respect either, Don far too wrapped up with his lustful intentions to spare time for a jab at Pete’s lack of intuition.

“Yes.” He merely stated, shoving two of his fingers into the younger man’s mouth without so much as a warning, pressing down on his tongue to have them coated in as much saliva as they could get in as short a time as they had before someone would eventually go looking for them.

Campbell didn’t gag until they were shoved just past his reflex point, lips opening wide to release the intrusion that they were, but Don didn’t want to relent just yet. “For someone who won’t smoke,” He said, his fingertips gliding across his tongue, “You sure don’t mind things in your mouth.”

That was when he retracted them, reaching behind his back to slip them between Pete’s cheeks, pressing their wettened tips against his rim. “Try not to squeal, it usually catches attention.”

That was the only warning Pete got before Don immersed them to his knuckle, not bothering so much with the foreplay aspect when he had a task to do; opening him up to accommodate for himself. Pete immediately clenched and backed onto them, biting his lip while Don’s body pressed itself harder against him, the erection in his trousers jabbing into his bare thigh.

“ _Yes, Mr Draper!_ ” He hissed at him while they ventured around his insides, only providing a teasing graze to his sweet-spot when he knew they could do so much more. The moment they began to scissor was the moment he practically melted in Draper’s hold, the grip that had planted itself at his waist digging deep just to keep him upright, his digits not ceasing for a second to get their job done.

He was satisfied once Pete let out another, less vocal, scratchy moan, and they tenderly pulled themselves out while they reunited their kiss, fuelling the passion and drunken lust all the more. All it took was a whispered ‘Fuck me, Mr Draper’ for Don to take his mouth away, spit on his palm, and slick up his stiff cock.

The bright blue eyes fluttered while they watched in awe, widening when Don picked him up, wrapping his legs around his hips, and lining the head of his dick up to his hole.

“One more time, Campbell.” He murmured, pressing his lips to his neck to encourage it out of him once again.

“Fuck me, Mr Draper!”

The wish was granted immediately, just one snap of Don’s hips embedding him inside Pete to the hilt, his eyes watching him struggle to keep in the wail he was so desperate to expel. His teeth pinched his rosy lip instead, sure to bruise it, or even draw blood, with its frantic harshness.

“Good boy, Pete,” Don had to praise, loving both the reaction Pete gave him and the sense of authority, “You feel so good.”

Another thrust, and Pete’s expression melted into a desperate illustration for release, his cock, which Don hadn’t even noticed was rock hard, beginning to leak pre-come across its slit.

“Let me touch myself!” Pete begged in his signature hiss to keep his volume at a minimal level; something Don was all the more aroused to hear, and all the more generous to respond to.

He didn’t say anything, and instead of permitting Pete with the ability to stroke his own neglected cock, he took it upon himself to provide that pleasure, wrapping his right-hand around him while his left continued to hold steady to his thigh, the pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

Shuddering to the touch was the only thing Pete could do to express his gratitude, even if it was an involuntary convulsion, and Don’s option for rewarding it was a kind swipe across his wet slit, stimulating the head blissfully.

To hear him moan in his ear again, to feel him clench around him, to smell the sweet cologne right by his neck had Don nearing the cusp of his finish, and all he would need, much like the other man too, were some words of encouragement to tip him over.

“You’ll do what you’re told, won’t you, Pete?” He asked him, keeping his cadence nice and steady, syncing them to each of his thrusts.

“Yeah!”

“Then you’ll tell me how it feels, won’t you?”

“D- Don, I—”

His prick received a tight squeeze for his slip of tongue.

“That’s _Mr Draper_ to you.” He growled, the same line that would be repeated in almost all of their occasions together, resulting in the ever-rapid correction of his address,

“Mr Draper, Mr Draper, you feel so great, you- _Ah!_ I’m so close!”

“You can come when I tell you to, Campbell. Now, carry on.”

Don’s simple enough command had been laid out, and while his hand didn’t stop jerking, he still expected Pete to refrain before the time was right, to control himself for just thirty seconds more before he was given permission.

But, Pete being Pete, he wasn’t always the best at following even the most explicit of directives.

Don felt him come when he clenched harder than before, his spoils spurting out of him and into his still moving fist without control, the man’s breathing fast and heavy. 

Options for reprimanding him were limited, not only due to their setting, but also from Don’s own progress to completion, his mind much less focused on how Pete was now attaining the perfect afterglow while still getting fucked, and more on how he himself was to finish in the next few moments.

He couldn’t lie, the disobedience was just as hot as the potential obedience might have been, and each little whine and whimper he let out right in Don’s ear made it all seem worth it, but there was still one way he could punish him, even if it was an extremely minor option.

Knowing that he’d most likely walk straight back to his wife after they left the storeroom, confident that he’d probably depart from the party early to return home and get into bed, Don thought the best opportunity to give Pete a consequence for his actions was to finish inside of him.

So that’s exactly what he did.

He grunted right before it happened, burying his face into his neck and latching his lips onto the delicate skin, no care for his five o’clock shadow gently grazing across its surface, and he emptied out inside his tight heat, panting while the orgasm took hold.

It wasn’t for another minute until he recuperated enough to release Pete from his grip, gently pulling himself out and letting his legs go from his hips. 

They couldn’t say anything, express anything, explain anything better than they had done the previous dozen times the same thing had happened.

All they could do was look at each other, flushed faces staring like reflections of the same sentiment, the perfect image of their fleeting and clandestine pleasures.

Don’s hand landed on Pete’s cheek gently once he’d pulled up his trousers, letting the heat of his blush be felt on the very tips of his fingers.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Don.” He said to him, voice slightly scratchy. Don could only imagine what he would have sounded like if a louder volume was permitted.

“Tell Trudy I wish her a Merry Christmas.” Was Don’s reply, glad to see a bemused smile spread across Pete’s rosy lips.

“I won’t, but thanks anyway.”

The younger man raised his hand up to rest against Don’s, keeping contact for one more second before he slipped away from him, pushing back his slightly dishevelled hair back into its clean style and stepping out of the storage closet, returning to the party.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :) Comments and kudos are always appreciated ♥ Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


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